


43rd Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [43]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator, Overwatch (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood, Body Worship, Breeding, Domestic, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hypnotism, Impregnation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, POV Second Person, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, Sexual Tension, Trans Male Character, Voyeurism, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28627314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Shimadacest | ch.2 Shimadacest | ch.3 Shimadacest | ch.4 McHanzo | ch.5 McHanzo | ch.6 McHanzo | ch.7 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.8 Hugo/Dadsona | ch.9 Geralt/Ciri | ch.10 Bruce/Jason | ch.11 Reaper/Soldier76 (Part 1/2) | ch.12 Reaper/Soldier76 (Part 2/2) | ch.13 Geralt/Roach | ch.14 Geralt/Jaskier | ch.15 Edgeworth/fem!Reader
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada, Genji Shimada/Sojiro Shimada, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Roach, Hanzo Shimada/Sojiro Shimada, Hugo Vega/Dadsona, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Reader, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Fic Batches [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 5
Kudos: 110





	1. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – (Part 1/3) Zoom Verse; Hanzo POV; exhibitionism/voyeurism; control kink; need – It is time. Finally.
> 
> Prequel: B42F3  
> Sequel: B43F2

In a room full of men, Sojiro is the only one actually dressed.

Normally, Hanzo would be laser focused on that fact, trying to slowly get closer to worm his way beneath his father’s kimono and whine for that cock he’s so very used to by now. One could say that his daddy’s dick is somewhat of a well known… comfort; especially when he is surrounded by the cocks of other men slowly driving him insane.

This time around, his father doesn’t have his focused attention for once – it is Genji. Genji, who is just as naked as the rest of them, except for the collar around his throat and the leash ending in their father’s unrelenting fist.

Hanzo is… mesmerized. Dazed. He keeps staring at him, even when he is upside down, head hanging off of the lap of one of the guards while his legs are held up by another, low grunts of exertion audible as he gets fucked.

He is sensitive already… his hole feels swollen and raw, cocks spreading him unrelentingly no matter which way he turns and how he curls up on himself. The guards’ hands are calloused but gentle when, upon Genji’s clipped orders, they gently pull Hanzo apart once more to spread his cheeks and slip back into his dripping hole.

It’s been a while since he’s gotten fucked this relentlessly. It fucks with his head. He feels… dizzy with cock and the proximity of his brother. He can smell him. He can smell Genji’s cock, flushed at the tip and standing straight from his body. It looks so delicious… He only notes he is drooling when the guard on whose lap he is lying swipes over his wet lips and slips two fingers into his mouth, rubbing them over his tongue and playing with it.

Genji’s eyes are locked with his. Hanzo doesn’t think he’s taken them off of him for even a second. The thought makes him feel even warmer inside than the many loads deposited in his belly.

Sojiro is kneeling behind his youngest, one arm curled around his shoulders, pulling him back against his father’s chest. He has tucked his chin over Genji’s shoulder, mouth against his ear, murmuring low. If Hanzo gathers his scattered wits enough to focus, he can make out the words being said.

“...doing well… taking good care of him, are you?... all yours… patience, sparrow. Patience…”

The guard fucking him comes. Hanzo can hear it more than he can feel the pulse of the fat cock in his overworked hole. His legs are slowly lowered to the ground, the stuffing removed to leave the warm load slowly dripping from the inflamed gape.

“More. One more.” Genji’s voice is rough as if he were sick, but the determination behind it is unmistakable. Hanzo shudders, goosebumps appearing down his arms. God, he wants this… He wants Genji’s voice just like this in his ear when he finally…

He stretches out his arms, uncoordinated and weak. He is thankful for the fingers in his mouth still playing with his tongue – it keeps him from begging like a child for his little brother’s cock.

There’s a fire igniting in Genji’s eyes. He reaches out despite their father’s tight grip on him, and curls his fingers around Hanzo’s wrists. Hanzo, in turn, grasps Genji’s. They hold on to one another tightly, eyes locked unwavering, even when the next guard takes up his place to slide into Hanzo slow and steady. The curve of this cock means it is scraping right against Hanzo’s prostate, causing stars to explode in front of his eyes.

“...ripe for the taking… don’t you think so, sparrow?” Sojiro’s voice is a low murmur, as smooth as Genji’s voice had been rough. There is no distress to detect in their father’s words – he is as calm and self-assured as always.

“Ah…”

Hanzo blinks his eyes open. He stares at Genji’s face, hovering close to his own now. The fingers that had been lazily fucking his mouth are slowly pulling away, leaving him to stare at Genji open mouthed, then looking down his body curled forward.

He can’t see what is happening, but Genji keeps panting softly, his brows pinched, and cheeks flushing. Just a few weeks before he would have been adamant and headstrong about their father playing with him.

Much has changed since Sojiro laid out Hanzo’s _affliction_ to him. He seems to have _understood_.

Sojiro’s pull on Genji’s collar is unrelenting but not choking. He does not pull Genji away from Hanzo; nor does he stop it when Genji’s face becomes soft and… loving, and he leans down to kiss Hanzo.

It is awkward, upside down as this, but Hanzo feels like he is has to claw his way out of his skin anyway. His blood his boiling, insides clenching down tight and sudden on the cock fucking him. The guard grunts and stutters in his rhythmic thrusts before resuming them again, albeit slower.

He can’t focus on it; not when Genji presses his tongue into his mouth, filling him as if trying to fuck his throat with his tongue. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but be a warm sleeve for a cock and a tongue, his heart feeling like it wants to pound out of his chest because this is GenjiGenjiGenji.

When Genji pulls back, there is a strand of saliva still connecting their tongues until he speaks up, voice rough and unsteady now.

“Stop. Turn him around, I want… I want him to properly see- I want to properly see him.”

Hanzo gurgles his protest but there is nothing he can do about any of this. His body is no longer his own; his limbs feel buttery, the joints unable to hold any weight when he is not supported by the big hands of the guards. He is pulled from the lap he had been lying on and twisted around.

They murmur at him soothing little nothings but he can’t make out any of their words; not when he is focused on Genji, kneeling on all fours, his eyes burning into Hanzo’s very being.

Sojiro is ranging behind his son. He looks… like a demon. There is a smile on his face that seems to show every single one of his teeth. His fist, leash curled around it multiple times, his pressed between Genji’s shoulder blades.

He looks like an Oni that is possessing Genji. The gleam in his little brother’s eyes intensifies when Hanzo is speared on cock again, sitting down on it and leaning back against the guard’s chest.

The new distance between them is… impossible to bear. He reaches his arms out to Genji.

He doesn’t have to say anything – as always, his every whim is being obeyed. Genji grins slowly, his smile a less devilish version of their father’s… if only just so.

He pushes against the collar, crawling closer to Hanzo, hands sliding up Hanzo’s spread thighs toward the aching center of his cock.

“You’re doing so well, Hanzo…”

Genji’s words are like a salve. He makes a strange, animalistic sound, eyes fixed on his brother’s mouth while his skin tingles from his touch.

“You’re doing so well… just… just a little more… then I will have you.”


	2. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – (Part 2/3) Zoom verse; exhibitionism; voyeurism; control kink – It is finally time.
> 
> Prequel: B43F1  
> Sequel: B43F3

Hanzo is filled with cock, his stomach feeling like it is sloshing with cum – but all he can think about is Genji, kneeling across from him, naked and glorious and flushed down his front right to his desperately hard cock.

The shaft looks wet with pre-cum that has been dribbling from the tip, teased out by their father’s clever, cruel fingers. As Hanzo stares at it, Sojiro’s hand appears again, sneaking around Genji’s hip, dragging fingertips along his son’s sleek, flushed cock.

For once, is not the one out front and center, guiding every step with the hand of a virtuoso – but he is in the background, pulling the strings all the same. Hanzo can feel his gaze burning into him like a dragon’s flame, eyes glittering and dark over Genji’s shoulder.

If Genji leans forward to touch Hanzo’s skin slick with sweat, it is only because Sojiro _allows_ him to do so, loosening the tautness of Genji’s leash to allow him to kiss Hanzo yet again.

It is better like this; right side up, mouth able to just fall open and accept the push of Genji’s tongue inside… Genji’s hand around his throat; not choking but definitely holding tight enough to feel every tremble of Hanzo’s Adam’s apple.

When he ends the kiss, he stays close, their lips brushing and breaths mingling. Hanzo feels like he is vibrating, sounds coming to his ears dulled as if he is under water. He is getting fucked, yes, but he barely registers it. His body is primed for it, yet not. He is ready to get filled over and over again – but by his brother. By Genji who he has been lusting for for… way too long. His whole being strains for him…

“Are you sated… brother?” Genji whispers into Hanzo’s mouth. It is just his hand around his throat that keeps him upright at this point. The guards are nothing but playthings that Hanzo has lost interest in the second Genji has started to undress. They had started as a means to an end but have now become negligible.

Their father’s voice is whispering from outside the bubble that has descended around Hanzo. Genji’s eyes flash. A hand strokes over one of Hanzo’s plump nipples, pinching the pudgy areola.

“Are you sated?” he repeats more insistent now, his tongue lapping over Hanzo’s mouth as a dog would.

Is he sated? Is he? He feels bloated with cum, his hole inflamed and swollen, insides gone numb from cock after cock that he had taken tonight – all on Genji’s orders. Yet…

Yet.

Hanzo shakes his head. He strains forward, trying to catch another kiss, but the hand around his throat is unrelenting. As unrelenting as the collar around Genji’s own neck.

“Good.”

Genji pulls back abruptly. Hanzo feels like his world is about to crumble down; falling in on itself, the gentle warmth that had settled over him suddenly turning noticeably colder – until Genji’s gaze flicks up to the guard behind Hanzo.

“Leave him be. I will take over now.”

Hanzo’s heart skips a beat, the warmth flooding back into him with a vengeance. He feels like he is going to overheat; his heart is going to burst; he will come before Genji even puts a finger on him-

A hand grabs the back of his neck, tight and unrelenting, forcing Hanzo’s head to turn and finally look away from his brother.

It is Sojiro, standing over the both of them, that same demonic grin still on his face.

“Good boys. You deserve it. Go on… play to your heart’s content.”

.o.

Genji’s leash is dangling loose over his shoulder. Hanzo grabs it and curls it around his own hand a few times, using it as a point to hold on to while he struggles to pull Genji closer with clumsy eagerness. His cock feels overstuffed, lying on his belly, blood hot and pulsing. He’s been held on the edge of orgasm for so long that he feels like he is about to go mad with it all.

Genji doesn’t look any better. For once he is not having that infuriating, loose grin on his face. He looks… troubled almost, brows pulled together, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he stares down between their bodies. Hectic dots of color appear on his cheeks. He reaches down and lightly brushes his fingertips over Hanzo’s testicles, then beneath them; feeling their heft and warmth.

“I can’t believe this…” His thumb slides against the warm space where Hanzo’s balls meet his cock. “I feel like I’m in a dream or something…”

Hanzo’s breath hitches, his skin painfully sensitive to his brother’s touch. He curls his hand with the leash, pulling him closer. There are people standing around them, watching on – but he only has eyes for Genji.

“Do it.” He can barely keep a growl out of his voice. It’s been so damn long… so many years… he can’t bare to wait even a second longer for his little brother’s attention. Genji has always been just out of reach; dancing at the edge of his awareness. He’s been going out, bestowing others with his presence when Hanzo has been confined to the estate, learning at their father’s hand and always… always only wanting to…

Genji crawls over him. He lets go of Hanzo’s testicles in favor of touching his hole. He’s so close, Hanzo can see how his pupils blow wide when he feels the wet, butter soft rim of his older brother’s cunt against his fingertips.

“Fuck… it’s hot-” Genji’s brows twitch again. He stares into Hanzo’s face as he reaches deeper still, nervously rounding the soft gape of Hanzo’s ass before slowly slipping him two fingers. They go in easily, of course. Hanzo has trained just for this moment; he’s been a good boy. A good slut. A good heir, just so he can spread his legs and offer his used-up cunt up to his little brother and not make a peep of protest when he’s getting felt up by him.

To the contrary… His cock pulses again. He is so hard that he feels almost nauseous with the need, his thighs trembling as he lets them slide apart even farther.

“Genji,” he croaks and jerks on the leash to have his undivided attention snap back to his face. “Do it _now_.”

Genji nods. He hooks his arms under Hanzo’s knees and lifts him a little to have him at the perfect position. Over his shoulder, Sojiro is hovering dark and foreboding, his dark eyes smoldering as he watches on.

Genji puts his cock against the butter soft hole, then starts to slowly push his way inside. Hanzo curls his hand into the leash until it creaks with the strain, his eyes rolling up into his head. He’s not sure what he’s doing with his other hand – it could be digging bloody trenches into Genji’s shoulder, or trying to rip the hair out of his head; both seems equally possible as he is finally, finally, _finally_ filled with the one thing he’s wanted the most.

The one thing father has always teased him with, whispering in his ear, taunting as he held the possibility of Genji just out of Hanzo’s desperately grasping reach…

And finally it is here.


	3. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – (Part 3/3) zoom verse; exhibitionism/voyeurism; Hanzo POV; control kink – Their first time ends with a bang.
> 
> Prequel: B43F2

Genji pushes into him without a hitch. Of course. Hanzo barely has any reign over his own muscles anymore; he is warm and fucked out and loopy on the fact that he hasn’t been able to come for the whole time.

Now with Genji right there, finally slotting into him and making him feel whole, he feels like a bit of his vitality is returning to his limbs. He curls them around Genji, pulling him down against him and holding on to his little brother like an octopus.

Genji is hot against him, his skin slick with sweat. Or is it Hanzo that is sweating? He can’t tell anymore. The lines between their bodies seem to merge into each other. It becomes difficult for Hanzo to tell what belongs to him and what belongs to Genji.

His little brother’s cock isn’t something extraordinary… except that it is. He can feel him sliding into his guts, rubbing up against his overworked prostate and setting all his nerve endings on fire. Hanzo is hyperfocusing on the feeling inside him; of the cock slowly but surely falling into a rhythm that is pushing the air from his lungs and makes it hard to grasp the concept of simple words.

There is a hand in his hair. For a few delirious moments he thinks that it is Genji, petting him to tell him how exceptionally good he is doing (Hanzo knows that, but he always enjoys hearing it anyway).

It is not Genji’s voice that croons at him, though – it is Sojiro’s.

“Well? Is it satisfactory, my son? Is it everything you have imagined it to be?”

Hanzo opens his eyes, his legs curl around Genji’s hips just a little tighter. For a moment he fears that if he answers anything but ‘yes’, Sojiro will grab Genji by the back of his collar and pull him off of Hanzo, which is… ludicrous, of course. Hanzo always gets what he wants. Always.

“Y-Yes,” he stutters out, voice unsteady from Genji having found his stride and now fucking him like a man possessed. His sleek young man hips are pumping relentlessly, drilling his cock into Hanzo and slapping his bally against his ass with wet smacks that feel as if they bounce around Hanzo’s head.

Sojiro’s face slides in and out of view, his expression unreadable. That demonic grin that had been constant earlier is nowhere to be seen now, his dark, scrutinizing eyes dangerously sharp and intelligent. Hanzo’s breath hitches, his cock jerking and pulsing out a dribble of pre-cum; a conditioned response to any of their father’s moods. It does not matter whether he is happy or angry or pensive – it most of the time ends in Hanzo getting fucked by him anyway.

“Genji. Easy now. Slow down… You want to service him, don’t you? He likes it a bit slower… let him enjoy…” Sojiro’s words become unintelligible to Hanzo when Genji follows suit and starts to scrape his cock against his insides painfully slow. It is as if Hanzo can feel every bump of his own intestinal wall; every swell of the swollen veins on Genji’s shaft.

It’s impossible of course, but that does not stop his brain from melting from the overload, his toes curling in the air behind Genji’s back.

The next time he opens his eyes, Sojiro is hovering behind Genji. His mouth is at his son’s ear, whispering instructions to him while his eyes are unrelentingly on Hanzo. Even now… even now when he’s given over Hanzo’s care to Genji – if just for the night – he can’t let completely go of the power.

“Slow now… nice and smooth… Don’t stop moving. Look at his face – you can see a twitch in his cheek when you- yes! There! Have you seen it? Keep looking at his face, Genji. Watch his eyes, his mouth; there it is again. That twitch… do you know what that means? You’re touching him right where it counts.”

Hanzo is just holding on for the ride. His father’s words move through him without much meaning. These are the most blissful moments… when he doesn’t have to think of a single thing and just be.

Genji’s cock keeps rubbing over his sweet spot now. It zings through him like electricity. His mouth falls open; he can’t help the sounds spilling from him. Those little not-quite wails that his little brother teases from him with his movements. The tips of his fingers are prickling as if they are about to go numb, so he digs them harder into Genji’s shoulders and watches his face twist briefly before it sets into something much more determined.

He leans down, away from their father and closer to Hanzo, pressing their cheeks together and whispering against his ear: “You feel… incredible… You’re so soft and warm around me, brother. You feel better than any girl I’ve fucked-”

Hanzo closes his eyes. He digs his heels harder into the small of Genji’s back, forcing him back deeper into him, his cock swollen and painful, smearing pre against his belly and pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat. He’s so close…

The guards are still there, watching as the brothers fuck and not saying a damn word about it. They’re wrapped around his fingers just as much as Genji is. As their father is. He can use them just like the toys they are, but… does he even still want to? Now that he has Genji to attend to his every whim and fulfill whatever he desires?

“Give it to him, Genji. Can’t you see how badly he needs it? You’re driving him mad just because you deny him.”

Hanzo doesn’t know where their father is. He can only hear his voice, crooning and poisonous, directing Genji’s hand between them. It is a shock to his system to feel his little brother’s fingers close around his cock; almost more so than having him slide into his fucked-out ass and rabbit hump into his guts.

His breath hitches, his heart skipping a beat or two. His body feels overwhelmed with all the impressions, stalling for half an eternity just off that delicious peak he has been seeking for a… for a lifetime now. He feels all the eyes on him. The guards. Sojiro.

Genji.

Genji squeezes the slippery cock in his grip, thumb pressing against Hanzo’s swollen tip. Finally… Finally the bubble bursts, and he comes, howling like an animal as he bursts apart, insides squeezing down on his little brother’s cock, limbs drawing tight enough around him to cause bruising.

.o.

Genji’s lung is burning. He feels like he’s been through a wringer, the pulsing of his cock echoed duller and far more painful in his throat. He’s pretty sure by the time he gets to take off the collar, there’ll be a dark bruise ringing his neck.

He feels like his soul left him through his fucking cock. Hanzo lies beneath him, his eyes rolled up into his skull, mouth hanging open. He’d look like an idiot if it weren’t so damn hot to see him completely fucked out and useless.

There’s a sound next to them as if someone is clapping. He turns his head and stares at their father, sitting on a chair – _throning_ on it – and looking as satisfied as Genji has seldom seen him. When he sees that he has his son’s attention, he lowers his hands into his lap and nods at him.

“You did very well… For your first time. You understand now what it takes to satisfy his urges, yes? Very good, my little sparrow.

Very good.”


	4. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – (Part 1/2) Pony/slave AU; timeskip; domestic; Genji POV – Five years later..
> 
> Prequel: B42F5  
> Sequel: B43F5

Genji doesn’t bother to sneak up on the small building in the middle of the desert. He’s pretty sure he would have started walking up from the nearest town if he had wanted nobody to hear the rumble of his bike – everything in this part of the world seems to just be… flat; and sound travels well.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the ramshackle building anyway. It looks tiny, ducking in the weirdly diffuse desert sun. His heart sinks the closer he gets to it. There’s no way anybody is even living there anymore… but the locals had been adamant, and it is one of his very last leads in order to find Hanzo.

It wouldn’t hurt to just… try. After this he’d have to go back to the family anyway for a while. These days he can’t afford lengthy absences from duty. What he had thought was a very well-organized crime syndicate had turned out to be a bunch of idiots running around like headless chickens once they didn’t have someone to tell them what to do.

Seeking for Hanzo has become a… pastime at this point, as shameful as it is to admit. Chances that Hanzo was still alive after five years without trying to reach out to his family are slim to none, but Genji wouldn’t accept his death until he held his skull in his own two hands.

He only sees the small paddock with the animals hidden behind the hut when he is rather close to it. His brows lift with interest – the animals are alive and look well-fed, everything considered.

Hm…

He comes to a halt a few meters away, staring at the building. Nothing is moving inside. Nobody is coming out to greet their guest. He revs his bike’s engine briefly just to make a ruckus and announce himself, then shuts it off. The silence following his bike’s noise is ringing in his ears.

Genji pulls off his helmet and slides off of the seat. His legs are stiff from the long drive, so he stomps his heels against the ground and shakes them out while he brushes his hair back and looks around.

There is a single donkey on the small field. It has trudged closer and is eyeing him with interest, probably hoping for a snack or two. He lets it stand where it is in favor of rounding the house. It is not quite as run down as it had looked coming up to it. There are clear signs of someone having tinkered on it at every turn. Behind it, hidden in the shadow it casts, sits an old truck.

He rounds back to the front and stares at the entrance door. Something has the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. There hasn’t been a single sound or movement from inside the hut. In his mind’s eye, he can see a shadowy figure standing next to the door, holding a gun and just waiting for the intruder to get in and get a head full of lead.

Genji moves slowly, reaching for the zipper of his leather jacket and pulling it down to reach inside and curl his hand around his own gun. Just to be sure.

“Hello? Someone in there?”

There’s absolute quiet for a moment, but he _knows_ there is someone in there.

“My name is Genji. I am looking for my brother Hanzo!”

Suddenly, there is movement inside the hut. It sounds like a scuffle of two people straining against each other. The curtain on one window twitches, causing Genji to pull his gun within the blink of an eye. A breath later, the door opens up

– and five years of searching have an end.

.o.

Hanzo is 27, but he looks a lot older than that. There is grey at his temples and streaking through his hair. Genji stares down at it as they cling to each other hard enough to make it difficult to breathe.

Back when Hanzo had been in Japan, Genji wouldn’t have any problems in teasing him about it. Now he can’t make himself say anything at all. His tongue feels swollen in his mouth, his throat has pulled tight.

Hanzo is only wearing a pair of shorts that make Genji feel as if he had just now hastily pulled them on. Behind him, in the door of the hut, stands a bear of a man. He looks like a grizzly with how wild his hair and beard is, but his face is slack and his eyes big as saucers; it makes him seem a lot younger than he looks.

Genji grabs Hanzo by his shoulders and slowly pushes him away to look him up and down. There are a lot of scars; circling his wrists and his throat, for one.

“Brother… It has been a while.”

He rubs his thumbs against Hanzo’s shoulders, somehow unable to stop just… _touching_ him. He just has to make sure this is… real. Hanzo is real.

Hanzo nods slowly. He reaches up with one hand. For a second Genji thinks he will pull his hands away from him, but instead he just grabs on to Genji’s wrist and squeezes it tight. His lips are pressed together tightly, jaw shivering slightly as if he, too, is fighting with tears.

Hanzo glances back over his shoulder to the man standing in the doorway, then steps closer to Genji and nods to the side where an even smaller building huddles – the animal shed.

“There. Let’s talk there.”

Genji glances to the bear as he follows Hanzo without protest. The guy looks like he’s about to start bawling himself.

“Who is this?”

Hanzo shakes his head and leads him away with quick steps that are just short of running.

The inside of the animal shed is… comfortable. It looks freshly cleaned and well put-together, though he only has a cursory glance for it before he looks back toward Hanzo who stands at the door, back pressed against it and staring Genji up and down.

“I had feared you were dead,” Genji finally breaks the silence when his brother does not seem inclined to talk anytime soon. He looks so… different than before. He had still been more on the slender side when he travelled to the States and got grabbed by this gang they had been about to establish a trading route with.

“Why are you here, then? It’s been…” Hanzo halts, his gaze becoming a bit confused for a moment as he seems to try and think about how long it’s been since their last talk.

“Five years, brother,” Genji supplies quietly. “I have never stopped looking… It has only taken a while. After father passed away and I took over…” he trails off. Hanzo’s eyes have snapped back to him, sharp, the corners going tight.

Genji shifts forward a little and places his palm over Hanzo’s chest, feeling how fast his heart is beating despite his unnatural stillness.

“It doesn’t matter now. I am glad I have finally found you. Come back with me, Hanzo. I have waited so long-”

“No.”

Genji blinks slowly, waiting for Hanzo to elaborate… but he seems weirdly scarce with his words. Five years ago he would have given anything to know how to shut the narcissistic prick up; Hanzo had loved nothing more than the sound of his own goddamn voice. Now it feels like he has to pay for each word by the syllable.

“What do you mean?”

“I will not go. I can not go. With you.”


	5. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – (Part 2/2) pony/slave AU; timeskip; domestic – Many things change in 5 years.
> 
> Prequel: B43F4  
> Sequel: B44F5

It is quiet for a long time after Hanzo had stopped telling his tale. They have sat down next to each other on the surprisingly clean floor of the shed. Genji is idly playing with a single piece of straw while he mulls over what Hanzo has told him.

He feels like there is more to the whole story, but his brother seems unwilling – or maybe unable – to say more. If this Hanzo is anything like the Hanzo Genji had known five years ago, he would not get any more out of him than what he had found ready to share. Hanzo can dig his heels in like a mule if he wants to.

“Hm.” Genji can tell Hanzo flinches slightly next to him when he makes the sound. He flicks the piece of straw away from himself and rubs both hands over his face. “Hm.”

“What happened at home?” Hanzo asks with clear hesitation when Genji does not say more.

“Not much. There were wild stories about you coming forth for a few months. Father got more and more closed off. I couldn’t tell what hurt him more: the rumors or your absence. But he did not search for you, no matter how loud I screamed at him.”

He chuckles, remembering his own idiocy.

“Ah. In any case. He died not too long after, and I took over as head of the family. I have been looking for you since, though not continuously as my duties have been ensnaring me more and more…”

He trails off, realizing that Hanzo is now staring at him wordlessly. His eyes, at the very least, are the same as always. Dark, unnerving pits. Just a few years ago he would have been quick to attest that they are filled with nothing but malice, but he has to admit that that is not the truth. They are filled with nothing. Hanzo always had played his cards close to his chest.

“You have changed,” Hanzo says suddenly.

Genji shrugs and glances away.

“So have you. This… life… Hanzo. It is not for you. You have been born into riches and now you live like a… vagabond. Not better than the sad animals you raise.” He gestures vaguely to the wall of the little shed behind which they can see the shadows of the few animals move around.

Hanzo’s jaw tightens for a moment, then relaxes again. He looks away, staring at his hands.

“This man. You were generous in glossing over his role in all of this. I can not believe that you just stumbled over him and he was gracious enough to take you in.”

Hanzo shakes his head impatiently and gets up. Genji follows suit, looking at him warily.

“I do not mean disrespect, brother,” he says quietly but with emphasize. He tries to get through to him. “I can see you are indebted to him, and in turn, _I_ am indebted to him. Whatever he did, he saved you.” He reaches out and curls his fingers around Hanzo’s shoulder, his movements slow and easily readable.

“He shall not go unrewarded. But you can’t stay here.”

The corners of Hanzo’s mouth turn down stubbornly, but Genji continues: “Your family is waiting for you. You still have a legacy to uphold.”

“ _You_ are my family, Genji. With father dead, I have nobody but you.” Hanzo jerks his head to the side, indicating the direction of the main building. “And him.” A queer look enters his velvety dark eyes when he says with a weird inflection: “Since when do you give a shit about legacy?”

Genji can’t help but start to smile.

.o.

Jesse almost drops his bottle of beer when the door suddenly opens and Hanzo comes in. Behind him, the bike revs up, curves around their small farm once as if viewing it from all sides one last time before it drives away.

He quickly gets up from the old armchair he’s been slumped in, staring at Hanzo.

“You’re still here…” He hates how rough his voice sounds, betraying how damn close to tears a grown up man has gotten, but his throat is painfully tight and he can’t do shit about it. He puts the bottle down on a side table, the glass clinking against the wood from how his hand is trembling.

“Of course,” Hanzo says with a weird expression on his face. His tone says that he thinks Jesse is a fucking idiot. He looks down at himself, then slips his thumbs into the elastic band of his shorts and slips them off easily. The sight of him naked is far more familiar anyway. It’s been so long since Jesse has actually seen him wear clothes.

Hanzo seems to relax when he’s naked, rolling his shoulders and rubbing at his neck as if to loosen muscles, then hooks his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the bike they can still hear rumbling.

“My brother.”

Jesse’s mouth goes dry. He rubs his palms against his thighs. He wants to touch Hanzo, but all of a sudden he’s not sure if he should. He had gotten so used to the mean fucker over the past years that it had somewhat… slipped his mind that there is still a family he belongs to. One he wants to go back to.

“Oh…” he rasps. His knees suddenly go weak and he sits back down after all. “Oh… right… right. So… he’ll come back…?”

“Hmm I suppose so. Maybe. He said he wants to stay in touch.”

Hanzo looks faintly amused. He hasn’t said this many words in a few months. It’s still rare that he speaks, but Jesse suspects that he simply enjoys not doing so.

Everything is turning. He thinks he maybe should put his head between his knees, but before he can do so, Hanzo is grabbing his shoulder and pushes him back so he can look into his eyes.

After a moment of staring, he puts his other hand against Jesse’s scruffy cheek and spears his fingers into his hair, slightly combing it back.

“Do you think I am going to leave you here?”

Jesse stares at him helplessly.

“Are ya not?”

“Hmmm. No.” Hanzo isn’t looking him in the eyes in favor of watching his own fingers in Jesse’s hair, but Jesse knows him well enough by now to see he is a bit embarrassed. Or maybe excited about how out if it Jesse is just from the thought of him leaving.

“So you’ll stay?” he asks.

“For now. Yes. I have grown fond of you as my toy.”

He doesn’t say more to it. He pushes against Jesse’s shoulder again to make room so he can sit his naked ass down on Jesse’s knee, then kisses him.

It’s taken Jesse two years to no longer flinch when he does it.

He curls his arms around Hanzo and crushes him against his chest. His toy… _Hanzo’s_ toy? When had thinks started turning back on him like this?

Jesse pulls back from the kiss, pressing his forehead against Hanzo’s.

“...Thank you…”

Hanzo exhales a warm puff of air against his face and curls his arms around Jesse’s neck. A moment later, he has his head pillowed against Hanzo’s chest like a kid getting comforted at their mother’s breast.

He closes his eyes. In the distance he can still hear the bike rumbling.


	6. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – Minotaur AU Part 2; sexual tension – Jesse has a short talk with a flustered Hanzo.
> 
> Prequel: B42F6  
> Sequel: B44F6

Hanzo’s heart feels like it is about to spring out of his chest. He has not brought any weapons with him… other than the few daggers that he always has concealed on his person. Looking at the large beast, a dagger seems hilariously insufficient. He might be able to gauge out one of its eyes, but what good would that do him other than the grim satisfaction that he hurt it seconds before getting trampled into mush…?

Haruto has him pressed against one of the thick bars of his cage, eying him with what amounts to thoughtfulness on the face of a bull. His large ears keep slowly flicking. Hanzo notes that there is a tag pierced through one of them as if he were mere cattle.

He leans in closer, his large nostrils flaring as he sniffs at Hanzo; first his hair, then his chest, then… even lower. Hanzo’s breath hitches, his knees pressing together as if to ward off the nosy snout of a dog.

“Hmmmm… you are… a sibling of his? You seem too young to be a father…”

Hanzo inhales deeply. He can’t help but reach out and grab onto the wild mane of the beast between the large ears and horns while Haruto continues sniffing at him all over; even going so far as to push the wide nose beneath Hanzo’s arm to scent him there.

It still feels surreal to hear the creature talk, and it actually making sense. His brain flat lines for a second or two before it puts Haruto’s words in a meaningful order.

“Are you… are you talking about Genji? He is my younger brother…”

He trails off. Haruto finally pulls back and stares at him from up close. If he minds Hanzo helplessly clawing at his hair, he doesn’t show it. Hanzo can feel his body react to the lack of warm breath wafting over him and through the fabric of his robe. His skin pebbles and his nipples tingle.

“I see…” Haruto draws his head back and Hanzo has to let go of his wild mane. Someone has put golden caps on the ends of the bull’s horns, they glimmer in the warm orange light of the lamps. Hanzo wonders if that, too, has been one of Genji’s modifications, or if the bull has had them all along.

“Two pretty brothers,” Haruto drawls. His hand unclenches from the fist in Hanzo’s clothes and instead presses flat against his chest to keep him where he is. The movement has his robe slipping from his shoulder, the belt all but undone from the minotaur’s grab.

“You came alone?”

Hanzo nods slowly, then immediately wonders if he should have lied. He does not know what the bull is capable off, though and he does not want to get acquainted with those dangerous looking horns. It surprises him that they have even let the minotaur keep them, though he suspects that that is curtsy of Genji’s unending horniness. He probably has found the aesthetic of them pleasing – not that Hanzo could fault him for that.

Haruto nods as well, obviously in thought as he starts to rearrange his limbs until he is squatting in front of Hanzo, the large hand never leaving his body to let him slip back out of the cage.

Should he call for help or would that only aggravate the minotaur further?

“I think your brother has lost interest in me.”

Hanzo doesn’t reply, but that seems to be the wrong course of action this time. The bull’s eyes flash and he jerks closer suddenly as if wanting to spear him on one of his lage horns.

“Well?! Has he?”

“I… suspect so, yes.”

Hanzo’s heart is beating wildly once more, breath coming in fast little pants.

Haruto stares at him for a moment, then exhales long and warm, his breath wafting around Hanzo and crawling underneath his robe. He has to squeeze his knees together once more, palms getting sweaty.

“That’s not nice, is it? Dragging me all the way here just to let me rot in this prison…”

Hanzo closes his eyes for a moment.

“Ah… no. No, that’s not… I am sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

Haruto finally takes his hand off of Hanzo. He watches without surprise on his face as Hanzo immediately stumbles back out of the cage, his robe slipping off of his other shoulder as well and hanging in the crooks of his elbows.

“I… for… my brother. He usually loses interest quickly…” He trails off, still staring at the beast. He is… beautiful. Even in the oily light of the two little lamps, his piebald coat is glistening. “Haruto, I-”

“That’s not my name. Your li’l brother gave that one to me, ‘n I couldn’t be bothered to tell him the truth, but you…”

There’s a lazy drawl entering the minotaur’s speech that has Hanzo’s skin yet again go up in pebbles, like a cat’s fur standing on edge along her spine. He’s out of breath yet again from the deep voice curling around him just as effectively as the warm breath from the large nostrils. He stares at him wordlessly, brain hopelessly empty of any meaningful thought.

It seems to please the minotaur either way. He slowly lies down on his side, stretching out decadently and obviously showing off the length of his strong body. He is wearing a slip of leather for some decency, but Hanzo can see the peek of large breeder balls even so.

His mouth runs dry.

“The name’s Jesse. And you are?”

“H… Hanzo.” Hanzo curls his fingers into the fabric of his robe. Jesse’s large eyes look him up and down, the long tail with a tuft of fur at its tip, restlessly twitches where it is lying over Jesse’s hip. It only occurs to Hanzo now that he is all but naked in front of the creature, his robe hanging open to show how he is only wearing a fundoshi underneath.

And how his cock has started to tent the fabric in the front…

Hastily, he starts to pull the robe back into place, his cheeks flaming hot.

“Are you going to run away now, Hanzo?” Jesse drawls. One of his hands slides down as if unintentionally, fingers playing with the bit of leather covering him up. Hanzo gets a glimpse of a freckled cock before he quickly looks back up into the bull face. An animal should not be this expressive. He feels like Jesse is laughing at him.

“That’s alright. You’ll come back to me, won’t you? I’d love to talk some more…” Jesse croons. Hanzo refuses to look back down, but he can see the rhythmic bunch of Jesse’s bicep, as if he is…

He turns away quickly, his heart racing. Of course a creature that his brother has had would be a lewd pervert.

“Think of me when ya touch yerself, will ya?” Jesse calls after him in that low, lazy drawl of his when Hanzo hurries outside, his body still hot from the minotaur’s breath.


	7. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – handjob; fluffy; T-dick appreciation; transman Jack – Jack missed out on a date appointment but Gabriel isn’t one to hold grudges.

Gabriel stalks into Jack’s office, his already unamused face scrunching up just a bit more when he sees the Strike Commander bent over his desk, scribbling away onto a data pad.

“The fuck you’re still doing there?” he grunts, pulling his beanie down a bit into his forehead while the corners of his mouth turn down.

Jack makes a questioning sound and briefly glances up to look at him, then back down at his work, big hand still delicately holding the small pen.

“I’m done soon… don’t worry, alright? Just sit down for a sec…”

Gabriel sighs. He rolls his shoulders and comes closer, circling Jack’s desk and coming to a stand behind him.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Hmmm…”

Gabriel puts his hands on Jack’s shoulders. He’s only wearing that tight black shirt that frequently gets Gabriel hot underneath the collar. He digs his fingers into Jack’s shoulders, rubbing into his tense muscles.

“It’s 9 pm. You know what you missed?”

“Hmmmmm…”

Jack is only barely listening, he can tell, too engrossed in whatever report he is writing up. Gabriel rolls his eyes and leans down, now hanging over Jack’s shoulders, cheeks rubbing together. There’s an irritated hitch of breath but, as ever, Jack has himself perfectly under control and doesn’t slip up.

“You missed our dinner reservation at 8. That’s what you missed. A nice, expensive dinner in a fancy little restaurant, courtesy of my wallet.”

Jack has stopped writing. Gabriel has his undivided attention now. Finally.

“Oh… dang… Gabe, I-”

“And you know what else you missed?” Gabriel croons directly into his ear, one hand rubbing over Jack’s chest, down his hard belly to grab his crotch. “You missed an opportunity to have me get you off in the fancy fucking bathroom of the fancy little fucking restaurant.”

The heel of his hand gently grinds into Jack’s cock. Jack’s breath hitches again. He very slowly puts the little pen down, his fingers trembling minimally when he stretches them out to place his palm flat onto the table.

“...That so?”

“That’s indeed so.” Gabriel dips the tip of his tongue into Jack’s ear briefly just to feel him shudder. He can already see the flush on the back of his neck, deepening quickly. “You’re lucky I’m such a generous man and don’t mind getting my plans of wining and dining my workaholic friend dashed by said workaholic friend.”

He gives him another gentle grind of the palm of his hand before he easily opens the button of Jack’s pants and plays with the tongue of the zipper.

“Just friend?” Jack replies. He sounds a bit out of breath from excitement already. It has been a while since they had time for such things, that is true…

“Yup,” Gabriel mutters, popping the p. He slowly slides the zipper down, then uses both hands to pull the lapels wide apart. He is breathing warm into Jack’s hot ear, the tip of his nose brushing against the whorls of it. “Just a friend… We’re just friends doing friend stuff…”

Glancing down Jack’s front, he can already see the tent at the front of Jack’s sky blue underwear. He can’t help but laugh, fingertips brushing over the fabric as if unaware that he is teasing the tip of Jack’s cock with it.

“Underwear’s matching your eyes, buddy.”

“Shut up,” Jack mutters petulantly. The flush has spread to his cheeks now. He is grabbing the edge of the desk with a white knuckled grip, the muscles in his forearms trembling. “They’re your present, aren’t they?”

Gabriel hums, very pleased with the admission. He spreads his fingers around Jack’s cock, slowly sliding up and down to pull the fabric tight over the jut of his dick. That he is keeping on teasing him is just an added bonus.

“Fuck, that looks really good, Jack… All of that just for me…”

He idly palms one of Jack’s pecs, thumb rubbing over the pebbled tip poking against the fabric.

“Wish I could’ve seen all of his in the fancy fucking mirror of a fancy fucking restaurant.”

That, at last, gets Jack to relax with the rough bark of a laugh. His head jerks back, knocking into Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Shut the Hell up with your goddamn restaurant!” he exclaims. His voice sounds so damn good when it’s trembling both with lust and the threat of laughter.

Gabriel chuckles along but it tapers off quickly enough. He stares down Jack’s body, watching his own fingers lightly brushing circles over the tip of Jack’s cock.

Jack inhales long and shuddering. He spreads his thighs a little wider, hips angling up once more. Gabriel is of half a mind to make him wait for it; to tease him and make him say what he wants, but… he honestly looks too cute right now to be an asshole about it.

He dips his tongue into his ear again, then catches his earlobe between his teeth while he grabs the elastic band of his underwear and begins to push it down. There’s a small, deep sound coming from Jack. The hair along his arms is standing on edge with the goosebumps trickling through his body.

His cock juts out from the silky nest of his blond pubes. Gabriel drags his thumb over it from the swollen tip to the base once, twice, listening to the raspy whine entering Jack’s voice and watching how the T-dick reacts with swelling even further.

“Fuck, that looks good, Jack…”

He grabs it again, framing the shaft with his fingers. It is hot to the touch; he can feel the minute twitches against the rough pads. He can tease the hood back until the glans are free in the open, glistening and swollen and looking so goddamn tasty. He wants to get on his knees and worship him, but Jack has his arm curled around Gabriel’s and is holding him firmly in place while he lightly ruts his hips up, fucking himself against Gabriel’s fingers.

“You feel so good, Jack… so damn good… You think I could’ve made you be loud? Huh? Get you to alert the waiters that I’m jerking you off in their fancy fucking bathroom?” He rumbles into Jack’s ear. He doesn’t think he’s very intelligible, but Jack plays along either way. The sounds he makes go directly to Gabriel’s cock.

He jerks him as slowly as possible when Jack is trying his damndest to control the whole thing. He gathers the wetness seeping from him to drag it across the swollen T-dick and make a mess of the thick fleece of curls. He tugs on them until they’re tufted up like a punker-do and Jack makes those little growls that tell him he’s just about done with his shit.

Everything is warm and slick, the glide as silky as can be as he frames the cock with two fingers that drag along the shaft; but it takes a third finger ruthlessly tapping against the swollen tip to get Jack to come for him. Both of his arms suddenly curl around Gabriel’s arm, holding him clutched to Jack’s chest as if he wants to break it. His head digs back into Gabriel’s shoulder, hips jerking up again and again while he rides his orgasm.

All Gabriel can do is try and catch his squirts in the palm of his hand just so the mess will be kept at a minimum. He knows the kind of cleanliness freak that Jack is. He’d get up to shower as soon as his legs stopped shaking.

And Gabriel can’t have that, now, can he? Not when they’re both hot and shivery and everything feels so nice and lethargic.

Jack should just fucking enjoy a few minutes of reprieve for once.


	8. Hugo/Dadsona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugo/Dadsona – cont B16F6 – grunt fucking; hair pulling; nasty – Hugo is just so easy to bully around...

“You got any lube close by? Huh?” Dad digs his thumbs in deeper, pushing one of them threateningly against Hugo’s sweat wet hole as if he is about to try and force his way in just like that. “Can’t fuck a sweet slut as you dry, now, can I?”

It’s so very easy to be a bit of a bully with Hugo. He’s so passive, so meek… he invites it getting his hairy ass spread and someone to tell him he’s a nasty little boy for not wearing anything beneath the slutty little wrestling dress he’s wearing.

That big ruddy cock he got even jerks with it, more wetness pearling at the tip. Honestly… Dad’s never seen someone so hairy and wet. It’s a dream come true.

“I… ah… ah…” Hugo sounds close to tears. He is breathing into the palm of his hand, his eyes looking as wet as the tip of his dick is when he glances over his shoulder back at Dad.

It takes a bit of prodding and more bullying to finally unearth the information. Couch. Between the cushions.

“Fuck, you’re nasty, aren’t you? Ready to rub one out at any moment? Do you slip your big fat cock out the second your son vanishes into his rooms? Hmm?”

He squirts a generous dollop onto his fingers and pushes that with two digits into Hugo’s clenching, cute little hole. Damn, it really is the sweetest little thing he’s ever seen… but it can stretch like a whore’s cunt.

Dad leans over him, pressing his nose into the back of Hugo’s neck. It’s wet and warm here as well. He’s a sweaty bastard for sure… Dad can’t find it in him to be disgusted by it.

“You take my fingers so well… it’s like you were made for it. Or maybe you anticipated this? Did you hope this would happen? That I would put you in your place and spread your ass and unearth your nasty little hole underneath the forest you got growing here? I bet you squeezed yourself into this slutty little number just for that…”

He grabs one of the skinny arm straps and lets it snap against the back of Hugo’s shoulder for emphasize.

Hugo looks so mortified; the heat he is radiating in his shame is almost inhuman.

“I… I… that is…”

Dad fucks his fingers in deep. At the same time he grabs Hugo’s thick hair and jerks his head back. Hugo cries out, his biceps trembling. Dad has never before heard such a sweet sound… So needy and yet distressed-

He moves his fingers, scissoring them open and rudely rubbing them into the squishy, hot walls of Hugo’s intestines. Hugo’s mouth falls open, his tongue all but lolling out. His thick mustache is trembling yet again – Dad is sure it would feel amazing if he sat down on his face…

“You hear that? Huh? You hear the sounds your slutty body makes for me?”

His wrist is cramping a little but it is worth the wheezing little sound Hugo makes when he finger fucks him faster, causing the lube to squish obscenely.

“You’re so damn cute, Hugo… I’ve never seen a guy as hot as you…” He has his cock against the hairy back of Hugo’s thigh, trying to keep himself at bay just by fucking against it, but damn… damn, the feeling of Hugo’s soft insides squeezing down on him whenever his fingers rip harder on his hair… God, he’s making it so damn difficult!

“Want me to get you off like this?” he asks when all Hugo does is choke on his tongue and become, if possible, even more bashful. “You want me to finger fuck you until you pump out your load? Huh? Or maybe…”

He slides his wet fingers out of him, rounding the pout of his little muscle. “Maybe you want something else…”

“Goodness…” Hugo sounds strangled. It’s the first intelligible sound he’s made since Dad ripped open his little wrestling body and exposed the furry crack of his sweaty ass to the room. “Goodness… please…”

Dad smirks. Part of him wants to keep him begging, but he supposes before he’ll get his dick wet, one of two things might happen: either, Hugo’s son’ll come home, which would be… ah… not good. Or Hugo will break down into tears because he is just so insanely humiliated.

That would be kind of hot, but also not desirable right now. Not when he hasn’t properly gotten his dick wet in months and has this hunk sitting right in front of him.

“I gotchu,” he mutters. His fingers never leave Hugo’s hair. The loose little bun he’s put the longer strands into is perfect to hold on to as he kneels up and looks down while guiding his cock into the nest of wet, dark fur. He can’t see a goddamn thing, but wow… wow, he can _feel_ it. Hugo’s little hole is mouthing at the tip of his dick, amusingly eager to spread open for him and let him inside.

Hugo’s meaty back has to arch to follow the painful pull on his hair. He’s not fat, but there are still delicious rolls forming in his skin that Dad digs his fingers into when the tip of his dick is inside Hugo’s trembling body and there’s no way he’ll slip out again.

He squeezes the chub between his fingers, pinching and prodding until Hugo wheezes and tries to squirm away. It feels absolutely incredible on Dad’s cock. The muscles around him keep gripping tightly whenever he pinches Hugo or pulls on his hair. He can glide into him smoothly, the lube making the entry silky and without a hitch.

By the time he finally bottoms out, he feels like he has to start pinching _himself_ just so he wouldn’t come too early.

He holds Hugo’s hair like reigns, hips snapping to fuck into him, the sound of the lube squelching now even louder in the stuffy living room air. It smells of sex and sweat, so pungent that Dad has to breathe through his mouth, the scent coating the back of his tongue dizzyingly.

Hugo chokes on a moan with every deep thrust into him. Dad can just about see his reflection in the glass of the TV; how Hugo’s eyes are rolling up into his head and his tongue is now really lolling out, drool dripping from the tip as he gets drilled deep and without any shyness.

He can take it like a champ; he’s sturdy enough for it, even if his disposition doesn’t seem that way.

Dad can feel the orgasm building fast and devastating. He bites the tip of his tongue hard enough to have tears spring to his eyes, sweat itching along the dip of his spine.

At the last second, he pulls out, jerking at the hair in his fist.

“Turn around!”

Hugo moves without much thought. He seems too far gone to even question the order. It does not take any explanation once he’s nose to cock and seeing how deeply flushed it is; how it is glistening all over from the warm embrace of his body just seconds before.

Dad grabs his hair again, this time from the front, pulling his head back and holding his face steady as he starts to jerk himself in fast, brutal tugs.

Hugo closes his eyes quickly, mouth dropping open. Dad wishes he would still wear his glasses, but he had taken them off prior to them wrestling, which made sense.

He comes in thick ropes over Hugo’s face, taking care to pump a good load onto his tongue as well.

When he finally starts to come down, he wipes the tip against Hugo’s bushy mustache. Hmm… that thing really is useful.


	9. Geralt/Ciri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt/Ciri – impregnation kink/breeding kink; hypnotism – Yennefer will have her baby any which way.
> 
> (Warning: Keep the pairing in mind. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat and all that jazz)
> 
> Prequel: B42F7

“Hmmm it looks like you are enjoying this far more than you should, Witcher. Oh, oh, oh… what dark depths are lurking in your soul, hmm?”

Yennefer extends her staff and tips Geralt’s chin up with it so she can see his sweat drenched face. He bares his teeth at her, clearly not as deep into her spell as a normal human would be. His eyes are full of anger, but it does not stop his body from responding to her little spell.

He has the girl buried underneath his bulk, holding her down like a mutt would do as he fucks her on his big ruddy cock.

To the girl’s credit, she hasn’t made a peep of pain. If Yennefer didn’t know better, she’d say the little Queen is… enjoying the treatment. Her face is mashed against the ground, plump little mouth open and wet as she gurgles with every inward thrust of the big cock railing her.

Yennefer’s eyes narrow slightly. She pulls her staff away again to let Geralt try and hide his shame behind the lank curtain of his hair while she moves to stand behind them. It truly does look brutish with the huge man crouched atop the dainty form of the little bitch. His massive breeder balls are swinging in time with his humping thrusts and covering all the interesting bits.

Yennever uses her staff to lift them up so she can better see how the little cunt is stretched to its limits around the fat shaft drilling into her. There is a lot of slick glistening everywhere; no blood to be seen.

“Fascinating,” she announces, unperturbed by the animalistic coupling of the two people under her spell. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that the little Queen has had her peach spread open before now. And by a cock as magnificent as yours, no less… She takes it like a little champ, isn’t she?” Yennefer pulls her staff away to move around them yet again. If she bends herself down just a bit, she can see how the girl’s belly bulges outward every time Geralt fucks down deep into her intestines.

Her tits are adorably small and try their best to bounce as she gets dragged over the floor by the mutt as if she is nothing but a toy for him to pump his semen into. Not that that is far off. Any fertile womb would have done for Yennefer’s purposes, but… she can’t deny that the thought of having the erstwhile Queen made into a breeding mare just for her purposes has had her too intrigued not to do.

“Actually… she takes your cock a bit _too_ well, isn’t she?” she continues with an airy attitude that she knows sets Geralt’s teeth on edge. “It’s as if she met it before. Like she’s gotten… _acquainted_ with it.”

An incredulous smile starts to curve her mouth as she realizes just what that means. She had been talking idly to sort her thoughts amidst the low animal grunts of Geralt’s. He dips his head even deeper, but nothing could hide the flush of shame on his cheeks.

Yennefer barks out a laugh and taps at his side with the point of her staff.

“Oh, you _dog_. You disgusting waste of space. You fucked her, didn’t you? You fucked your little charge and shaped her gorgeous cunt after your cock, did you? Ohhh you are nasty.”

She can’t keep the satisfied purr out of her voice. She almost wants to rub her hands together. The Witcher with his insufferable ‘better-than-thou’ attitude through his little charge down on the filthy bed of some run-down hovel and fucked her brains out. Did she like it then as much as she is now? Her choked sounds of pleasure have been steadily climbing, her nails scratching against the rug she’s getting fucked on as she is about to come for the fist time.

She howls like a banshee when she flies apart, slim back arching and pushing back against Geralt hard enough that she is almost carrying him for a moment. Aah, the power of women… Yennefer will never get tired of it.

She steps closer, grabbing Geralt by the hair and forces him to look up at her. She doesn’t immediately give him attention, though; first she turns toward the girl, watching her flushed, angelic face, mostly hidden beneath the wild tangle of her thing, gold-white hair.

There are strands of it sticking to her wet lips and drool is slipping quite un-Queen-like out of the corner of her mouth.

“Delicious. Can you feel her, Geralt? Twitching on your cock?” She finally turns to him, staring into his glowing yellow eyes. He looks like he wants to rip her throat out with his teeth but can’t do anything but obey the spell she’s placed on the two of them. “I bet you enjoy it. Such a young, fertile cunt just for yourself… You spoiled her for anything else, have you not? Oh, don’t pretend like you haven’t fucked her every hole already. I’ve seen through you.”

Yennefer pauses to let her words sink in and stoke the flames of his anger. She can’t help letting the corners of her mouth twitch – this is all just so… delicious.

“You’ve always been exceptionally dull for a Witcher… or maybe that is a prerogative of your kind? Nothing but a blade to point toward the next target. Or have you not realized how your manhood is swelling the more agitated you become? You fill her like you want to split her open. Like you want to fuck a trench into her from her lovely little cunt to the arrogant point of her chin.”

Ciri’s reedy little groan becomes louder there; as if part of her can break through Yennefer’s spell as well. Ah, these two. Nothing but thorns in her side.

“It doesn’t matter.” She pushes his head back down and straightens herself to gather her thoughts. “Go on. Fuck her. Pump her full of your stud seed. I will have my baby, Geralt; and I do not care how it is done.”

She snaps her fingers. The brute’s large body shudders when the magic doubles down on him. His back arches as if he is trying to stem against the tides that push him into moving, yet only moments later he succumbs anyway – just as Yennefer has predicted.

His hips snap, fat balls slapping against Ciri’s tender little pussy. She cries out raw and animalistic, but he does not give her any reprieve: he truly is a gifted breeding stud. It is a shame that he is sterile… most of the time.

Yennefer moves around them to watch them from every angle while she starts to whisper the chant she had unearthed, piecing it together from many dusty old tomes.

Geralt is smothering the girl beneath himself once more. He has somehow managed to squeeze an arm beneath her torso to play with her pitiful little tits while he rams his cock right into her belly.

Every now and then, Ciri will all but scream, one small pale foot jerking up from beneath the Witcher’s huddled bulk whenever the brutish cock kisses up against her womb too hard and insistent.

Still, she’s a natural at this. The pain fuels her desire. She comes again before he starts to pump her full and Yennefer’s spell reaches its peak.

She is sure this is it. This is the moment she becomes a mother.

But she wants to be completely, unequivocally certain of it… these two have yet a lot more energy in them.


	10. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – sex pollen; blood; loss of virginity; rape – Bruce got hit by Poison Ivy.
> 
> Sequel: B44F9

Jason is awake before he is really aware of why he is awake. A second later, he is up on his feet when the door to his safehouse is thrown open as if he hadn’t securely locked it.

Batman is standing in the doorframe. Not Bruce Wayne – Batman. He is leaning over, clutching at his stomach, his mouth open and tongue hanging out. He is panting. Jason can’t see enough of his face to say for certain, but it seems like he is flushed with a fever.

“What the fuck?” he whispers and takes a step back. The reaction is purely instinctual. Usually he would explode in the face of anybody simply inviting themselves into his domain, but this… something is decidedly not _right_ about this. Even more so than B suddenly standing on his doorstep as if he had known all along about this location.

The thought is very disturbing.

B groans, his body rocking back and forth. It looks like he is about to just topple over like a domino, but he catches himself and staggers in, door left open behind him. Jason takes another step back, nearly falling over his bed. Now that B is closer, he can see the tell-tale signs of a struggle on him. His cape is ripped and his suit damaged in places. Leaves are sticking to him in a few places.

Jason’s brain is working fast and sureproof. Poison Ivy. Her fingerprints are all over B; from the state of his clothes to his single-minded unresponsiveness. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Jason for a second, yet he is also not looking into his eyes.

Most of all, he’s not saying a word as he advances on Jason like a neanderthal.

“The fuck? Get away from-”

Bruce barrels into him and throws him back onto the bed. Jason immediately begins to struggle, but it is difficult to orient oneself when a bull like Batman is bearing down on you and the world is dark. His blanket has wrapped itself around his head somehow, taking his vision away from him as he tries unsuccessfully to extricate himself from beneath B’s heavy body. He is creepily silent other than the heavy huffing breaths he is taking while he rips at Jason’s clothes to bear him to the rapidly cooling air of the safehouse.

Gotham is a cold place, especially at night, and the open door doesn’t help one fucking bit.

That same cold air hitting his balls is what freezes him in place. His blind and disoriented with a guy as heavy as a bull on top of him – and now his ass is out in the open, hole clenching wildly.

He can’t think much past these facts: B and Ivy must have had a clash and whatever she did to him rendered him into this feral state. B has known about his safehouse – however he’s managed that feat. Is he spying after him? In any case… He’s made his way here of all places for some reason. There have had to be more convenient locations to ride out whatever poison is wreaking havoc on his body.

Yet…

Jason’s head jerks up when a hot cock slots between his cheeks. He’s not realized B has managed to worm his way out of his suit. His breath hitches, hole clenching tight as panic grips him by the throat and squeezes down.

He tries to fight the addled man off, but the harder he squirms the deeper he digs his way into the sheet that has wrapped around him.

B is a slab of warm, breathing marble pressing down on his back and grinding him into the bed while he shimmies his hips and tries his hardest to push his weeping cock into Jason’s unwilling body.

He tries his hardest to keep him from slipping in, but it is inevitable that he loses. His first, scattered thought upon the wet tip pushing his trembling muscles apart is: _I can’t believe B is my first._

Jason squeezes his eyes shut. The burn of the barely lubricated slide and the fat cock pushing into him is immense. It’s not painful enough to keep his own dick from responding, though, it seems. His abdomen feels hot and swollen from dick, limbs caught in the twists of the sheet wrapped unwittingly around him, but his cock… It is throbbing.

B is not making a sound other than the harsh, animalistic breaths he puffs against the back of Jason’s neck. There does not seem to be any higher brain function present other than him wanting to fuck and having chosen Jason as his object of interest.

Is it even about Jason himself? Or is he just seeing him as an easy target; a warm virginal hole to grunt fuck into once he’s lodged the tip of his dick inside and there is no way Jason will buck him off again…

Jason’s breath hitches. He refuses to acknowledge the sobs trying to force their way out. The burn gets worse and worse – until it finally starts to get better. It is as if B has been pumping out so much slick that it is finally able to properly oil the way.

Wrapped up as he is, he can’t smell the blood that is now smeared all over the fat shaft ramming into him.

Bruce’s thrusts are not rabbit fast, but they certainly are unrelenting. He fucks down into him in sharp, hard pushes that Jason shamefully punctuates with his wet gasps. His cock is trapped in the sheets of his bed just as much as the rest of him is; weeping into the fabric and rubbing against the wet linen whenever the bull on his back jerks him around.

Against his will, Jason’s brain starts to fog up with those same nice tingles he feels when he jerks off. He can tell that he is close to coming. He tries to push against it, but B’s movements are unrelenting and the waves of pleasure pain keep crashing over Jason’s overwhelmed head.

B’s low grunts and heavy breathing slip into the background until all Jason can hear is a static filling his mind and body, and ending in a focused tingle in the tip of his cock.

His body jerks as he comes, pushing out thick pulses of cum that immediately coat his dick and warm it in the sticky mess he’s made.

He doesn’t figure out B has come until he finally is released out of the trappings of the bedsheets. His body is numb other than his hole which is throbbing whenever he clenches down pathetically.

B curls up behind him and pulls him in as if they were lovers cuddling together. Jason can’t find it in him to push him away.


	11. Reaper/Soldier76 (Part 1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – werewolf AU Part 1/2 – werewolf Jack; Rape-y; fuck-or-die (kind of) – Gabriel is between a rock and hard place when he and Jack get cornered on a full moon night.
> 
> Sequel: B43F12

Gabriel has to keep grabbing Jack’s head and turn it away from the small window in their cell. He knows Jack isn’t doing it on purpose, but he gets more agitated from time to time – and Jack can feel it.

“‘M sorry-” Jack mumbles awkwardly around a mouth full of sharpened teeth. He looks and sounds drunk, slightly swaying in place.

“It’s alright, Jackie… just keep looking at me, alright? Night’s gonna be over soon. Then we can work on a way out of here.”

Jack shifts a little, turning toward him so he can look at him more easily. The hangdog look on his face makes Gabriel wince. He rubs his fingers through Jack’s short hair, scratching at his scalp; giving him something to focus on while the moon is wreaking havoc on him.

“There you go. It’ll be over soon, just a few more- come on. Look at me.” He grabs Jack’s chin and pulls him back around. Jack’s blue eyes are suffusing with more and more yellow. The shape of his face doesn’t look quite human anymore; his jaw is too long, his mouth too wide. Gabriel swallows hard. “Just a few more hours, Jackie. Hold on, will you?”

Jack nods but just a second later his face twists in agony. He closes his eyes, curling in on himself as if he is having a tummy ache.

“Gabe… Gabe I don’t think-” he slurs, voice rougher than usual. Gabriel’s insides clench nervously. He looks out of the window; the light of the moon has been dulled by clouds for q while now. He just hopes that it’ll hold on for a while longer.

“Quit being an asshole. Of course you can do it.” Gabe hates how there’s a small edge of panic swinging together with his voice. Jack groans, shaking his head.

“Fuck… fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters. He grabs Gabriel’s thigh to squeeze it, the action undoubtedly meant to be comforting, but his claws are digging in deep, making Gabriel aware of just how futile their endeavor is being. He knows their enemies are just outside, waiting them out.

Waiting for Jack to finally turn and rip him apart.

The clouds move aside. Gabriel closes his eyes and tries to center himself while Jack loses the fight against his nature and starts to change with a painful sounding groan.

The wolf Jack becomes is massive; it stands to reason. Jack and Gabriel are both big men after the SEP had put them through the wringer. Gabriel crawls backward despite himself, staring at the beast shaking off the remnants of Jack’s battle suit.

It pounces without hesitation. There is no need for it… for… for _Jack_ to orient himself. He doesn’t look around, doesn’t scope out the room – he has only eyes for Gabriel.

Gabriel’s back hits the dusty floor. Jack is over him; a massive werewolf that Gabriel has only ever seen through thick glass or the feed of a security camera. He has huge teeth which he doesn’t show his prey, for some reason.

Instead, he takes his paw off of Gabriel’s shoulder and starts to sniff at him.

Gabriel closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, then startles when Jack’s large tongue drags over his mouth and pushes insistently between his lips.

What the Hell?

He reaches up despite himself, grabbing a hold of the beast’s fur while the big dog tongue pushes into his mouth and licks at everything at once. Jack is huffing his hot breath against Gabriel’s face. His tail is not wagging but it is up and alert, showing how he is focused on the human caged in with him in this little room.

Dark spots start to appear in front of his eyes from lack of oxygen by the time Jack finally pulls back. His tongue keeps lolling out, a large smile on his face that shows a seemingly infinite row of sharp teeth.

“F...fuck-” Gabriel slurs. He’s in a daze, his heart beating too loud in his ears. He feels a bit high from the sudden oxygen rush, mouth tingling after getting assaulted by the insistent wolf tongue.

Jack is not stopping there, though. There’s no higher, human-like intelligence in his gaze, yet he is disturbingly adept at figuring out what to do to get his way from here: Claws and fangs start to work tugging and ripping on Gabriel’s clothes.

“Fuck- noo…”

Gabriel grabs the thick fur and pulls on it to no avail. He’s never been with a werewolf before, but the stories had been pretty clear about how feral they become when they are beasts. Shouldn’t he be happy about how… tame Jack is in comparison?

Behind Jack the moon is still shining bright. He can almost hear the crackle as it hits the werewolf’s back. When he reaches trembling fingers for it, the fur feels incredibly warm… almost electric.

“Jackie… Jackie, you’re better than this.” He honestly doesn’t know where he has managed to scrape his two remaining brain cells together after the wolf’s intense… kiss. “You need to calm down.”

His admonishment falls on deaf ears. Jack doesn’t react, at least – he is more interested in sniffing at the trail of fur leading down into Gabriel’s pants. He hasn’t quite managed to rip his way through them, but his goal is made abundantly clear when he not only sniffs at the trail but also starts to lap at it. His tongue feels as warm and silky there as it had pushing into Gabriel’s mouth and filling all of it.

His head is pounding, fingers twitching in Jack’s thick fur. Behind the door to their prison, he can hear the indistinct voices of their captors. Can they hear what is going on? Are they wondering whether Jack has ripped into bloody pieces yet?

Or… or are there cameras anywhere, showing them how he is too overwhelmed to properly fend off a clearly amorous wolf? The thought startles him back into action somewhat. He pushes against Jack’s massive head while he grits his teeth and tries to crawl away.

He gets as far as to roll himself onto his belly before Jack is back on him. He can hear him panting. Maybe he got excited, thinking Gabriel is presenting to him.

Waiting to be mounted and fucked by a werewolf. His cheeks are pounding with a hot flush, all those times that he’s heard – or even actively joked with friends – about werewolf porn skittering through his head. It’s not unheard of, of course… but he’s never thought… he never even _considered_ …

Jack sticks his snout between his thighs, sniffing rudely at his ass and crotch and inhaling the scent of his balls through his pants.

“Jack- Come on, buddy. Don’t-” He twists halfway, pushing at the large head. For the first time, Jack seems annoyed with him. His ears fold against his head, a low growl vibrating from him. It’s about as deep as one could suspect after hearing his human voice.

Gabriel bites the inside of his lip, heat swamping his body. This isn’t good. He shouldn’t… encourage it.

Not that Jack fucking cares. He sniffs a little more, then lifts his paw. The fabric stands no chance against it.

Gabriel’s stomach drops when cool air hits his ass and his balls start to slip out from the ruins of his underwear to dangle down freely.


	12. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – werewolf AU Part 2/2; Gabe falling in love with wolf dick nbd
> 
> Prequel: B43F11  
> Sequel: B44F10

Jack moves over him, blocking out the light from the full moon and plunging him into darkness. The wolf is so large that even Gabriel feels dwarfed by him, kneeling on all fours, waiting with bated breath for what will happen next.

_You’re an idiot. What do you think will happen next?_

The thought vanishes as quickly as it surfaces. He’s an analytical guy first and foremost, and impressions bounce around his head, making a lot of noise. Jack is as gentle as a wolf can be, he supposes. He has yet to show even a hint of aggression as he snuffles at the back of Gabriel’s neck and dances around a bit to find the perfect position.

It is clear that he does not want to hurt Gabriel. How much does he even retain of his human thoughts? Is he currently locked away in his own head, horrified at what the animalistic side of himself is about to do? Maybe if Gabriel keeps trying to get away, it’ll only make it worse for Jack later on…

He is prone to bouts of self-loathing, God knew why.

Gabriel bites his lip again. He can hear their captors patrolling outside. They’re just waiting them out. Waiting for Jack to rip him apart. Except Jack doesn’t seem inclined to do anything of the sort; he is blanketing Gabriel’s back and keeps licking at whatever skin he can reach, while his hips…

Fuck, he’s actually going to try and put his dick in him. Gabriel can feel the drag of the fat furry sheath against his ass and how it smears wetness against his skin even before the tip of a cock emerges.

It is… shockingly hot. Hotter than a human’s. Or maybe he is just imagining things?

“God, Jackie… fuck-”

He lowers his head, pulling his beanie down and over his eyes a little as he shamefully lifts his hips to make Jack reach easier. He’s just doing it so they’ll get out of this alive. Just so Jack won’t feel bad about it once he changes back and regains his sense of self.

He’s doing it for the _team_ , damn it!

Jack must have noticed the new change in angle. His hips hump a little faster, the hot tip of a cock sliding past Gabriel’s tailbone to the small of his back. He fucks like this, desperately looking for a hole to slip into and only managing to get his cock to slide down and into Gabriel’s crack.

The hair along Gabriel’s arms stands on end, body breaking out into goosebumps when the inhumanly hot doggy cock keeps slip-sliding just past his hole, leaving a wet trail in its wake. Jack is producing… so much pre-cum.

That’s good, isn’t it? He hasn’t been expecting to get fucked by his massive werewolf on-again-off-again boyfriend, after all.

Jack whines on top of him. He is starting to get frustrated with how he just can’t seem to find the hole he wants to breed up. So Gabriel has to help… again.

God, this is fucked up. He keeps biting the tip of his tongue as he reaches down, trembling hand searching for the cock bouncing wildly around in search for a warm nest to slide into. When he manages to curl his fingers around it, it is like a jolt to the system.

How… how big is that fucking thing?

His fingers slide along the slippery surface of the shaft, trying to ascertain what they’re working with.

Jack jerks forward, impatient and now growling.

God, fuck, he has no _time_!

He guides the tapered tip to his hole and squeezes his eyes shut in the darkness of his beanie. He wants to brace himself for the rut into his body, but… there is no rut; there is only a _push_ once Jack feels that his cock finally is at the correct place.

Gabriel’s mouth falls open as he topples forward onto his shoulder, taken by surprise by the rough thrust of the overenthusiastic wolf and the subsequent slide of the hot doggy cock into him. He had not thought- he hadn’t had time to process-

It’s shocking how deep Jack reaches on his first thrust. It’s even more shocking how deep he reaches on his next. It happens in a handful of seconds, fast enough to give Gabriel whiplash as he tries to figure out whether his body is experiencing any pain. He tries to fumble back between his thighs and get another grab of the wolf cock, but Jack’s thrusts are so powerful that he is toppled off balance again and again until he just… capitulates.

Everything is dark beneath the bulk of the beast and with his beanie still pulled over his eyes. It’s easy to just let go of the thoughts of how wrong this is. How he shouldn’t enjoy this as much as he is.

Oh God, is he enjoying it.

Jack’s cock seems to never end. It pushes in and in and in and still _in_ , taking Gabriel’s breath and making him wonder if he is going to be skewered on it. Maybe he’ll be able to taste it on the back of his tongue just at the next thrust into him…

It is tapered enough and wet enough to keep the pain to a bearable minimum. Jack’s tongue keeps lapping at the back of his neck as if he knows that these aren’t the ideal circumstances for this. It seems like it doesn’t matter the form, he’s always a charmer…

Their enemies are out there, just waiting for him to be torn apart – and he is, he assumes… just not in the way that they are imagining. 

Jack’s cock is stretching his hole something fierce. It has his toes curl in his boots and his breath hitch whenever he manages to cram in those last few centimeters that Gabriel’s body just refuses to take properly.

The wolf is fucking so fast… He jackhammers into him at a pace that has tears spring to his eyes while his body seems to want to ball in on itself, an explosive orgasm tickling him just outside of his immediate awareness. He wants to squirm and kick and whine; all of which are completely impossible with how he just _has_ to push into the unrelenting fucking he receives from Jack.

There are a lot other things he could do, of course… nothing as important as this: getting railed by a werewolf and have him stuff his shockingly long cock into his unprepared body. The burn from the stretch only adds to the whole experience.

Jack’s breath is huffing against the back of his neck. He seems just as enamored with Gabriel’s warm insides clinging to his dick as Gabriel is with the cock drilling him into the ground.

It dawns on him that he might be a little… fucked. He should’ve never opened this particular Box of Pandora. He can already see himself begging for this treatment once they’re out of this damned room and back at the HQ.

Already the thought of having to wait for a specific time of month to get his fix is making him feel a bit panicked – right until the moment the orgasm threatening at the edge of his consciousness finally rushes through his body as fast and unrelenting as the wolf cock pounding him.

This is good… this is fine… this is just perfect.


	13. Geralt/Roach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt/Roach – human/animal (Part 2/2) – Geralt giving it to Roach.
> 
> (HEED THE TAGS. Dead Dove Do Not Eat and all that)
> 
> Prequel: B42F11

Geralt pulls back slowly, watching his cock emerge from Roach’s pussy glistening wet with her juices. He can feel every beat of his heart throbbing in the swollen tip. His balls feel too damn heavy, pulling on the sensitive skin around the base of his dick and making him aware of their heft with every minute motion of his body.

The cool wind hitting his wet shaft is only adding to the sweet torture of it all. Roach whinnies low. She throws her head around, her thick upper lip wriggling in the air and showing off her teeth. She looks wild, but she does not move an inch from her spot right in front of her master.

She wants it. She wants the orgasm that he’s been teasing her with. She wants his him back inside her even though he is just a ludicrous stand-in for the fat stud cocks that he knows she can take.

The tail he has pinned beneath his hand and against her back is quivering. He thrives on her energy; it is like they are one, connected by an invisible thread that keeps growing larger and tighter the more excited the both of them become.

Her thick pussy lips blink open, showing him a glimpse of her dark pink insides. That hole she so generously offers to him every now and then when he can’t be bothered to find human contact to pump his seed into.

Roach’s clit is a fat pearl at the apex of her cunt; it looks juicy, sitting there swollen and ready for more. He can’t help but reach for it, calloused fingers thrumming against it. Roach throes her head again, her back arching down a little. She bears down on nothing, her hind legs quivering deliciously.

She is just as ready for the release as he is. Has she been waiting for him to finally give in to his urges and slide off her back? Maybe she has been lifting her tail for some time now; blinking her fertile cunt at any farmer or lone adventurer that had crossed their way without Geralt being any the wiser…

Roach can be a devious little slut.

She dances around now, her croup arching down every now and then and her pussy opening up. She is showing off better than any of the whores he’s met. None could manage to capture the raw animalistic need of Roach. There is no pretense here; no persistent doubts at the back of his mind that he is forcing himself onto someone.

Roach is easy and honest. She _wants_ him. So he gives her what she needs.

Geralt leans down, one hand still holding her tail out of the way, the other grabbing his painfully throbbing cock. He doesn’t need hands for what he is about to do.

He stuffs his face into Roach’s cunt and gets to work sucking her clit into his mouth. She whinnies again. He can feel her pussy twitching against his face, her thighs trembling. She’s always felt so good…

Geralt drags his tongue against her clit. He is no stranger to tending to a woman’s needs – just as he is no stranger to tending to a man. Roach falls somewhere in the middle. Her clit is big enough to be suckled on as if it were a little cock. It pulses against his tongue. She tastes clean and salty. Everything is so wet… She makes a mess out of his face.

 _He_ makes a mess out of his face. He can’t get close enough to her while strangling his own dick. He pushes hard enough that she has to take a small step forward before she can brace herself and lean into his greedily suckling mouth.

By the time he has to pull away with a massive gasp, dark spots are dancing in front of Geralt’s vision.

Roach’s gash blinks open again. She is still not satisfied. He can’t fault her for it.

He bites the tip of his tongue as he forces his sluggish thoughts into action. Looking around, he spots the rope he has hanging from his saddle.

“Stay,” he grunts even though he didn’t need to. Roach has her hoofs planted like she is prepared to stay there all night long if need be. He grabs the rope and moves back to her, cock bouncing in front of him and leading the way. He tethers her tail so he doesn’t have to use a hand to hold it up anymore. Roach lets him wrap the length of rope around her belly. She is unusually patient; just as driven to let him service her as he is to wringing an orgasm out of her before he finally takes his own.

Roach is a comparatively small mare. He tries to be cautious as he slips her one finger after the other, but she gets more agitated by the second, her little hoofs stomping the ground, now restless after all.

Geralt tries to keep her at bay by dragging the fingers of his other hand over her clit. It pulses against him, but it does not quell her need. Not enough. In the end, he just has to give her what she wants: He carefully pushes his fist into Roach, his body burning up at the sight and feeling of her pussy smoothly opening up to take him without a hitch.

She is so silky around him… so wet… He can feel the contractions of her cunt around his wrist as her muscles finally are able to lock around something big and warm filling her up.

Geralt’s own cock is drooling onto the ground; a continuous long dribble from the wet tip of his cock just from the sight and feeling of fisting his mare.

He moves his arm slowly to get her used to the feeling and test out the waters. It’s not the first time he’s done this for her, but every time is a little different. Sometimes she needs longer to adjust, sometimes she wants him to try and fuck his arm right into her belly.

This seems to be one of those times. She opens up like a well-seasoned whore for him, her hind legs moving a bit farther apart still to offer him better access as he fist fucks her and simultaneously pinches her fat clit between his fingers.

That’s all it takes to finally give her what she needs. She throws her head again but is completely silent as she squeezes down on his arm in sharp little contractions. He pulls out a little and is gifted with a jet of her juices hitting his stomach and sliding down toward his cock.

“Fuck-” He curls a hand around his dick, frantically jerking himself off. He wants to push into her and deposit his load in the warm recesses of Roach’s pussy, but she is still clenching on his hand and trembling through her orgasm, so she lets her have that while he jerks his own load onto the ground between her hoofs.

It’s not like he is sated with just this one round, after all. He’ll have plenty more time to grunt fuck her and make sure it’ll drip out of her the next day still.

It’ll be a few more days until they get back into populated areas. They’ll have plenty of time to keep each other company until then.

He’ll reek of his mare’s pussy.


	14. Geralt/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt/Jaskier – body worship – Jaskier wants to fuck but Geralt is - purposefully - not in the mood. So Jaskier has to try his luck to get him going.

Geralt usually has no trouble falling asleep; but Jaskier – as so often – tries his patience. He cracks one eye open, staring at the opposite wall of the bed. Down below the murmur of the bar can be heard through the floor; it is nothing compared to Jaskier insisting on twitching and wriggling at his back.

When he even clears his throat, Geralt’s mouth starts to turn down in a sour frown.

“What.”

“Huh?” Jaskier sounds startled, but Geralt would bet his left nut that he has just been _waiting_ for him to say something, which sours his mood further. “Ah… uh… nothing. Nothing. Go to sleep, will you? Atta good boy.”

Jaskier pats his hip a little, then lets his hand lie there, fingers slightly digging in. Geralt blinks slowly. The heavy sleep that had been tugging at the edges of his consciousness is receding, annoyingly enough-

And Jaskier just keeps _wriggling_.

“What?!” he barks, jerking around onto his back and staring at him. Jaskier is on his side himself, his hirsute chest right in Geralt’s face.

“Nothing! Nothing, really- It’s just…”

Geralt growls.

“It’s just… I thought… you know. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? And I’m the last one to… to _badger_ and _nag_ , but… you know what I mean? You get my drift?”

Geralt doesn’t react, just watching Jaskier digging his own grave – as per usual.

Jaskier pauses for a moment, looking like he is casting around for something more to say before he shimmies closer and simply sticks his hand beneath the thin blanket. It does not need much searching for him to find Geralt’s cock, resting against his thigh. He curls his hand around it and blinks up at Geralt with a faux innocent gaze that sets his teeth on edge.

“What I’m saying is that men have needs, yes? And… us both being men… we should help each other out more often? Hmmm?”

His hand squeezes Geralt’s cock slightly to no avail. He lets him hang for a few seconds longer before he finally gives in; if only a little. Jaskier can be entertaining when he is needy and vying for a fuck.

“How?”

Jaskier blinks. There’s color already rising to his cheeks; and probably to his chest, though that is hidden by the ludicrous amounts of fur he’s got.

“I… uh… excuse me?”

“Help each other out. How.”

“Oh wow. That was a… sentence and a half. Grammar isn’t your strong suit, I get it, I get it- ah. Yeah uh. That. I could really go for your…” He squeezes Geralt’s cock. The heat becomes more pronounced now; Jaskier is not shy by any means but he is starting to get excited enough about the prospect that he doesn’t seem to know where to begin. “Inside me…?”

Geralt rolls his eyes. He jawns, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“You can try.”

“What’s… that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer. Jaskier is still holding his cock and squeezing it like a cow’s teat, trying to tease it into growing for him. Geralt smirks just a little bit and settles in for Jaskier slowly realizing that he’ll have to work for it if he wants to stuff himself with Geralt’s dick.

“Damn… damn, alright…” he mutters as understanding begins to settle in. He throws the thin blanket off from the both of them and looks at all that he has to work with. Geralt ignores him for the most part. He wonders what will happen first: him falling back asleep or Jaskier managing to coax an erection out of a Witcher that is more in the mood to fuck _with_ him than actually _fuck_ him.

.o.

Jaskier tries his best. He’s gotta hand him that. His hand never seems to leave his cock, holding it like a child would its favorite doll while he finally puts his infernal mouth to better use than constantly aggravating Geralt’s nerves.

It’s slick and warm on his nipples, suckling and biting just enough to start to get Geralt’s blood pumping. He likes teeth. He likes biting. It satisfies something primal in his chest and makes him almost purr as he reaches down and cups the back of Jaskier’s head.

Of course the damn bard does not need encouragement like this, but he just can’t help it. He holds him to his chest a lot longer than Jaskier would probably have spent tormenting his little nipples. He makes his job at least well enough that when he pushes his face between Geralt’s pecs and pretends they’re a pair of tits, Geralt doesn’t wring his neck as he is still coasting on the electric feeling of that clever little tongue slip-sliding across the sensitive bud of his nipple.

“Well this is… unusual,” Jaskier mutters. He’s not directly talking to Geralt; just mumbling for his own sake because if his mouth isn’t occupied suckling on Geralt’s chest like a babe, he has to run it, of course.

Geralt has pulled his arm from his face and is watching him quietly. He has to focus on keeping his heart beat slow and steady, but he’d never give Jaskier the satisfaction of knowing it. It’s… exciting to see the frown on his face when he looks down at the limp cock in his hand. It’s not the first time he’s felt that way. There is something oddly satisfying about embarrassing Jaskier. Making him pause and frown and flush.

He can use the knock to his ego.

“Damn… okay. Wait a second-”

Jaskier moves further down. He pops the tip of Geralt’s soft dick into his mouth and suckles on it for just a few moments; he seems to already know that that won’t get him anywhere, so he lets him slip out of that warm mouth only seconds later, and slides even further down.

He nudges at Geralt’s legs; he opens them without much petty squabbling, interested to see where this is going.

Jaskier pauses and inhales deeply. He mutters some complaints about Geralt not having bathed in a while, but it does not hold him from suddenly stuffing his face between Geralt’s cheeks. He nudges his balls out of the way and lets them rest heavily over the bridge of his nose while he tries his hardest to get as close to Geralt’s hole as possible.

The drag of his warm, wet tongue is alien. It’s not the first time he’s gotten his ass licked, but he certainly can’t remember the last time someone dared to put their head between his thighs to service him like it.

There’s a satisfied growl starting to rumble in his chest and he can’t do a damn thing about it. Nor can’t he help how his control over his own body is slipping when he hears the wet sounds of Jaskier licking his rim and trying his hardest to suckle on the tight clench of his hole.

His cock twitches.

Jaskier pauses immediately. He pulls back to stare at Geralt over the expanse of his body. Geralt looks back at him, noting how his face is wet from stuffing it between his cheeks and licking like the little pig Jaskier is. It wouldn’t have surprised him if he had started grunting, honestly.

As he stares and thinks about how depraved Jaskier can be when he always tries to pretend to be so damn sophisticated, his cock does give another twitch.

Fuck.

“Fuck-” he grunts, putting his head back on the pillows. He digs his heels in against the bed and lifts his hips up to fuck his half-hard cock into Jaskier’s fist.

“Alright. Fuck. Get going.”

He had wanted to keep this on a lot longer. Maybe outplay Jaskier until he lost interest and finally got to sleep… he had not been anticipating just how desperate he’d be for that dicking.

He just should never underestimate the damn bard.


	15. Edgeworth/Fem!Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edgeworth/Fem!Reader – second person POV; dub-con; stress relief – Mister Edgeworth thinks you should make yourself useful for once.

The trial ends with no verdict. Once again, Mister Wright has managed to drag out new truths out of their witness which had to be followed up with some more thorough investigation. You do not like the way the judge insinuated that Mister Edgeworth hasn’t been absolutely _amazing_ and _thorough_ when he conducted his own research, but that is neither here nor there.

You hurry after him as he exits the courtroom through a side door, your notepad at the ready and pen poised. You’ve been Mister Edgeworth’s intern for long enough that you know to be prepared for a lecture at any time, and you feel a rush of satisfaction when indeed he starts to dictate to you the actions that have to be taken immediately so you the prosecution wouldn’t be lagging behind Mister Wright yet again.

You move into the garage with him and slip into his car without looking up from your notepad once.

By the time Mister Edgeworth falls silent and you look up, you are a little startled to see that you have made it into his bureau somehow without realizing it. You blink up at him. Mister Edgeworth is standing at his desk and staring right at you; the sight has your back straightening immediately, a rush of nervous energy coursing through your body and – you realize with mortification – tightening your nipples into tight buds.

You are sure Mister Edgeworth must be aware of your undying admiration of him and his skills (and… let’s be real… his _looks_ ), but you want to be _professional_ , after all, and him being in a foul mood after today’s trial shouldn’t be such an exciting prospect as it is.

“Miss –. Come here.”

You blink, mouth opening, then closing again.

“I… uhm. O-Of course, Prosecutor Edgeworth!”

You hurry over, clipboard pressing against your tits; in part just because you need something to hold on to and in part because you can’t stand in front of your _idol_ with your tingling nipples pointing directly at him through the sensible blouse you are wearing.

He is a tall man, and looks down on you as if _you_ were the killer. There’s a fine twitch in his jaw which you have found out to mean that he is truly stressed, even though he likes to pretend otherwise. Early on in your internship, you have had a talk with Inspector Gumshoe who had been waxing downright poetically about Mister Edgeworth’s little tells, and you have to say that it is true. Once you knew him, they all sprang out rather glaringly.

You immediately feel sympathetic toward him. He is working so hard to make sure his cases are absolutely perfect, and time and time again, Mister Wright is…

Mister Edgeworth looks you briefly up and down, then spares a short glance to the closed door behind you. You barely have any time to process what he is doing before you feel his large hand around your bicep and you are twirled around. Another hand grabs the back of your head, pushing you roughly over the large, perfectly polished desk of Prosecutor Edgeworth. Your notebook and pen fall to the floor in the process, sliding underneath the desk and out of mind.

“I… uh…?”

It’s the only word swimming around in your head as you try to process what just happened. Mister Edgeworth and assault doesn’t seem to fit in one sentence, but he _is_ grabbing both your arms and holding your wrists together with one large hand, and he is grabbing your skirt and flipping it up over your ass, exposing your tights and panties.

“Mister Edgeworth?!” you say a shrilly. You try to push up, but his hold on you is unrelenting, and he only tightens it further until your shoulders ache too much and you let yourself sink back down onto the large desk you had been admiring for months.

“Silence.” There is no malice in his voice, though it is tight. “It is time you start getting more duties.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand…”

You hear the rip of fabric before you feel the cool air hitting your thighs. After destroying your tights, he unceremoniously hooks a finger into the leghole of your panties and pulls them aside, baring your pussy to the room. The air feels even colder there – there is slick smeared all over your labia, you can feel it.

You can hear it in his voice how disgusted he is.

“Did it excite you to see me getting humiliated in court, Miss –?”

“I-I… n-no!” you stutter, horrified. You hear the slow rasp of his zipper being lowered. The thought of Prosecutor Edgeworth getting out his _cock_ almost fries your brain.

“Oh yes? Don’t you think this is rather damning evidence?” He slides his fingers through your gash. Your eyes go wide as saucers, mouth opening and closing uselessly. You clench your thighs together, but it doesn’t shield your pussy from his long, warm fingers calmly slipping through the wet mess you’ve made, and thrumming against your swollen clit.

You hadn’t even realized how excited you had been. Your low-level arousal is a constant backdrop these days, easy to ignore when your cunt pulses in your panties as you listen to Mister Edgeworth’s brilliant monologues. You have stopped being embarrassed of coming home and immediately fucking a couple orgasms out of yourself with your favorite dildo.

It all comes rushing back now that he plays with you, pinching your plump labia and drawing tight circles around your clit until tears spring to your eyes and you start to dance on the balls of your feet, orgasm just barely out of reach within seconds.

Behind you, Mister Edgeworth scoffs derisively. He pulls his hand away. In its stead, you are treated to the feeling of his cock, big and warm, pressing against the apex of your cunt and slowly dragging through your gash.

He gathers your silky slip on the tip before he begins to push inside of you in one slow, calm motion. Blood rushes in your ears. You are aware that you are being raped by your boss right now, but it does not seem to reach the pleasure receptors all over your body. You are strung tight as a bow, cunt tightening around his cock like a vice until he grunts and bucks into you the last few centimeters.

It shouldn’t give you a rush of satisfaction to have made him loose his cool for even a second. It shouldn’t make your legs all weak to feel how impossibly big he is inside of you, filling your snatch in a way your dildo never can.

He is so deep inside you he is filling your belly with cock. When he starts to move – to properly and unequivocally _fuck_ you, your whole awareness zeroes in on that one point of contact. You know you will feel him fucking you long after he is done pumping his load into your stomach. You will be able to feel him for days. Weeks. Months. Jerking into your body and spreading your tender hole wide on his shaft. Making you burn up from the inside as the orgasm starts to tingle in your fingertips.

You are being raped and you _love_ it. Love every goddamn second of it.

“From now on-” he is only slightly out of breath even though he is drilling into you deep and making you forget how to use words. “-Your duties will include being _useful_ for once, and aiding me in some stress relief. Do you understand?”

Your tongue is lolling out and you are drooling onto the pristine surface of his desk. You only realize that when he slams himself into you hard enough to knock against your cervix and make you see stars.

“I asked you something!” Mister Edgeworth snaps with the same derision he has for unruly witnesses. You somehow pull your tongue back into your mouth, gurgling out an indistinct: “Yes, Mister Edgeworth, sir…”

Oh god, oh damn… you are _fucked_.


End file.
